A Turn Up For the Books
by Scarlett Wilde
Summary: 2005 Riddick is incarcerated, and his jailor likes the games Riddick plays with her. Though her husband wouldn't be too happy if he knew...
1. Chapter 1

Rating: NC-17 (smut, semi-violent sex, language)

Rating: NC-17 (smut, semi-violent sex, language).  
Fandom: PB (takes place before PB film).  
Pairing: Riddick/OFC  
Disclaimer: don't own anything to do with PB or Riddick.  
Summary: if I say, there's no point reading.  
Feedback: yes please, but nits or shreds by PM only thanks  
Written: 2005

She hated her job, hated the fucking uniform more – but she liked the one redeeming feature. As she made her down the stone corridor towards _'him',_ her heart pounded. She knew he'd smell her; hear her; before she got any closer.

He crouched in the shadows, waiting for her. He could smell her fear, mingling heavily with desire. He could hear her heartbeat – pounding. Her blood pumped thickly through her veins. He stood. He waited for her to reach him His eyes shone like two disembodied silver orbs in the blackness.

The jangle of keys assaulted his ears and he saw her, standing before him. Always with that same look of defiance, telling him that he could only have her because she let him have her.

She unlocked the bars and slid them open, stepped into his domain and slid the bars back into place behind her.

Riddick stepped up to her, circling her body – like a panther stalking it's prey and getting ready to move in for the kill. He stopped behind her and took a lock of her hair in his hand and inhaled the scent, "beautiful," he muttered. He brushed her hair away from her neck and leaned in close, his breath was like fire on her skin and his words felt more like razor-blades as they scattered on her neck. "You want me so badly, don't you? You can't get enough, can you?"

His whispers echoed round her head, filling her with a need so tangible you could reach out and grab it.

His hand appeared in front of her, unbuttoning her slam issue uniform blouse and pulling it roughly from her shapely curves. Her bra-less breasts bounced free from the constrictions of her blouse. She had long given up wearing underwear on nightshift. Riddick stroked her soft skin. He had no idea what color her skin was, or her hair or eye-color – nor did he care. She was a good fuck, pliant and receptive.

As he leant into her back, she could feel his hot nakedness. His whispers raked daggers against her neck. Her nipples hardened, involuntary. Her pussy was wetter than wet. "See what I can do to you without even touching you properly yet? I see so much hatred in your eyes and you always come back for more, don't you?"

She wanted to nod, to shake her head, to move – but she was frozen. Every word he said was true. She was addicted – hooked, even. She hated the way he treated her, hated the things he had done. But his body, my God. His body was something else. And the things he did with his body – the things he could make her do to get his body.

She jumped when she felt the cold blade of the shiv touch her back. The tip ran down her spine, her body jolted and goosebumps fired all over her skin. He was moving round her again – the stalking movements that earned him his slam nickname.

She saw two silver orbs loom at her from out of the pitch black and she felt her lips part in anticipation of a kiss. A kiss that never came – kisses were for lovers and she was not his lover.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel his smooth soft skin, trace the lines of his scars. Even as her eyes adjusted to the inky midnight darkness, she could not make out his form. He, on the other and, could see her in all her fuchsia glory.

He could see the way she licked her lips when he touched her, the way her eyelids became heavy with lust as desire built inside her. He could see her twitch as she ached to touch him. He could almost see the blood coursing through her veins.

His voice hit her through the thickly pungent air, "you have never wanted anyone the way you want me, have you? Not even your husband." His voice faded into the background as a flicker of guilt passed over her. She thought about her husband, at home, in their double bed – warm safe and waiting for her to come home, while she was about to be abused by a murderer, a psycho-fuck killer who liked to skull-fuck people before he killed them.

"Are you thinking about him now?" she felt the blade circle her right nipple and she gulped. You never lied to Riddick, never. The tip circled her hard nub some more and she gasped at the cold metallic feel.

"Do you think about him while I am fucking you?" The blade moved to her left nipple and the point drew a spiral around the tightening nub. A cold sickness hit the pit of her stomach as she shook her head.

"Does he fuck you as good as I do?" She shook her head. "Does he make you come as hard as I do?" Again, she shook her head no. The shiv blade moved between her breasts and the point traced a line up her neck and forced her chin upwards. Her tongue flicked out and she licked her bottom lip.

"When he fucks you, do you imagine it's me just to make yourself come?" he heard a strangled gulp and smiled. Of course she did.

Riddick lowered the shiv and his free hand unbuttoned her uniform pants, pushing them down over her hips. He could smell the musky sweetness from her pussy and felt his own desire mount inside himself.

She took her pants off, kicking her shoes off at the same time. He stood, admiring he naked form. His eyes traveled slowly from her head to her toes, appreciating every curve, from the upward tilt of her breasts, the hourglass curves of her waist to her full, round ass. True, she carried a little more weight than she should, but he'd break anything smaller.

"Humm…you really wanna touch, don't you?" he saw her bite her bottom lip and nod. "Then touch…" he held his arms out to the sides and proffered his head down to his erection. She could barely make out this cocky gesture but she knew what he was doing all the same.

She knelt before him on the floor, wrapping one cool hand around his thick shaft and began slowly, but very firmly, stroking him. His circumcised head throbbed madly at her touch. Her tongue flicked out and licked the hole that issued a drop of pre-come. Her tongue rolled around the head, running along the corona and back before taking the whole of his purple swollen head in her mouth and sucking firmly. Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin and she felt him jerk against her hand.

She cupped his balls with her other, as her head bobbed up and down on his cock. Riddick could barely contain his pleasure, as both her hands worked his shaft and his balls and her liquid silk mouth worked his purple head into a frenzy.

He clutched at her head, fingers entwined in her hair. He fought the urge to fuck her mouth the same way he pussy-fucked her. Riddick could feel his balls tighten and he felt himself enter that pre-orgasmic state where nothing could stop him now. She ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft until she reached his balls; she gave each one a sharp little nip before running her tongue very slowly back up to the glans and took him back into her mouth, letting her teeth graze his very sensitive head.

He pushed into her mouth, groaned loudly like an animal growl and shot thick globulets of cum against her tongue. She took every drop he gave her and swallowed it down.

Riddick pulled her up roughly by the shoulders and saw a wickedly filthy glint in her eyes – matched only by his own. He wondered what she tasted like after swallowing his come, but he didn't kiss. He never kissed. Too intimate.

He pushed her back into the bars; her shoulders hit metal with a thud. She wanted him so badly she could feel it in the pit of her stomach – an aching need fuelled by the anger and resentment that poured out of every cell of his being.

Riddick grabbed each breast roughly with his large hands and squeezed hard. He knew how much she wanted him, how much she wanted him to fuck her like the world would end tomorrow, but he liked to draw it out – make it last as long as possible. Well, it's not like he was going anywhere. He lowered his head to her neck, inhaled the sweet scent of clove-orange, before sinking in his teeth into a soft, fleshy part of her shoulder.

She couldn't help but moan. The feeling of his teeth biting at her, nipping her skin, drove her wild. Everything about this dangerous man drove her wild.

His hands roamed her wanton body as he made his way down to her dripping wet pussy. His breath was hot and made raspy sounds against her, igniting her skin and heightening her senses as he dipped his wet fingers between her moist lips.

"God, you want me so much, your pussy is dripping." Waves of electricity ran from her ear to her pussy. His voice alone was enough to make her come. He bought his wet fingers to his nose and breathed in the heady, musky aroma before pushing them into her mouth – letting her taste herself. She gasped and he smiled at the look of surprise on her face.

"I'm going to make you want me to fuck you so bad, you beg – you scream my name." She closed her eyes and her head fell back against the metal bars.

He knelt between her legs and lifted one over his shoulder – opening her up to him. He was eye to eye with her pussy – and fuck, he loved pussy. Riddick could eat pussy all day and night and could never get enough. With both hands, he ran up the insides of her thighs. His fingers dipped between her wet lips and he pushed the hood away from her swollen clit, as the other thumb ran over it, brushing it with the very slightest touch. He felt her jump as her pussy contracted. He blew a stream of cool air over it, before bringing his tongue down to the swollen nub of nerve endings. She gasped. He grinned.

Riddick pulled her lips apart and lapped at her already flowing pussy juices that ran from her inner core. His tongue felt like both heaven and hell as he licked her pussy, dipping his tongue as far as it would go inside her hole. He felt her writhing against his face, and he moved his hands to her hips as a warning to stay still. "You know the fucking rules…no moving until I say so, right? Bitch!"

"Ok!" She knew better than to argue with him. She had done that before, early on in the game. She still bore the scar to prove it.

Riddick moved one hand back to her inner thigh. His rough, calloused fingertips trailed up to her pussy and he pushed two thick fingers deep inside her, not caring if she was ready or not. He began to pound her pussy with a ferocity that left most women feeling abused. His fingers slid in and out of her body with ease and he could see the moisture glisten on his fingers in the dark.

She could feel his breath, cool, against her wet lips as his fingers twisted and curled inside her. The beginning of an orgasm stirred inside her, the familiar tidal wave wash of emotion grew from a tiny flutter until…

Riddick pulled his fingers out, leaving her on the edge of climax. She heard a sharp grating of metal on stone. Riddick picked up the shiv by the blade and held the top of the handle against her wet entrance. Her body shirked against the intrusion that she knew was coming. Her pussy contracted as he pushed it deeper and she saw him curl his lips back in an evilly lustful smile.

"Who the fuck said you could move, bitch?!" Two silver orbs flashed in front of her. He knew he terrified her and he knew at the same time, she craved him – wanted him to do these things to her. "Now, you stay still like a good little girl." She nodded and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the bars again.

Riddick heard her let out a slow exhaling breath as he pushed the shiv handle in as far as it would go, forcing her tight hole open and eliciting soft moans from her. He saw her grab the bars as he began fucking her with the shiv handle. The more turned on he got, the harder he gripped the blade. He felt his hand get warm and wet, a coppery smell hit his nose – it had nothing to do with her pussy. A dark stain enveloped his hand at the same time her powerful orgasm rocked her body. The leg over his shoulder tried to clamp down as her body shook and she rode the waves of her climax.

Riddick withdrew the shiv and threw it so it landed safely under the bunk. He stood and wrapped his big hands around her waist; pulling her body close to his and thrusting his hugely erect cock against her soft, round belly. The blood smeared from his hand to her skin, marking her as his property. He watched the dark stain smear over her skin and his dick twitched – throbbed and ached to fuck her, hard!

"Want me to fuck you, yet?" he leaned in close; his lips brushed her ear lobe as he spoke, his voice barely audible.

"Yes, Riddick," she panted. "Fuck me, please just fuck me!"

He took one step away from her. "I don't think you really want me to fuck you yet, do you?"

"Fuck me, Riddick! Please fuck me!" her body ached for his, to be pressed into by his, to be fucked.

Riddick took another step back; his hands barely touched her slick, coppery waist, "I don't think you really want me. I think you just come in here to cock-tease me…"

"Fuck, Riddick!" she shouted. "Just fucking fuck me, ok?!" she was screaming at him.

Riddick grinned. He'd won. Two steps and she was wrapped around his waist – his dick slid easily into her wet silky depths. Her back smashed into the bars. Her legs and arms wrapped tightly around his body as the ride began.

His silver eyes gleamed as he fucked her hard, slamming his dick deep inside her. His hands gripped her butt cheeks, his fingers dug into her soft flesh. Her silken walls gripped his cock as she ground her clit against his pubic bone, urging her climax on – his fucking her wasn't really about her satisfaction.

He felt her tightening and contracting around his thick shaft. She was coming. It excited him. It turned him on. He pounded her pussy, his swollen head pushed against her cervix and it felt like he was forcing his way inside her womb.

She could feel every ridge, every veins pulsing against her soft skin. The swollen bulbous head felt enormous as her sensitivity heightened. Her mind flickered over all the stories she'd heard about him, as lights flashed in her head and her body sparked with electricity as the familiar sensation began in her pussy and radiated out through her entire body.

She knew he felt it too, this Killer, this murderer who was fucking the living hell out of her. She felt him fuck her even harder – as if that were possible.

White sparks filled her eyes and her head. Her pussy exploded with a white-hot heat and she felt her juices run from her pussy and smear between their groins.

It was all he needed. Her come running down his balls and he slammed into her hard, forcing her back harder into the bars. "Oh fuck!" she said. He slammed hard. "Oh God, yes!" she shouted. He slammed harder still. "Fuck, Riiiidddddddiiiiicccckkkk!!" She screamed. He pumped thick spurts of semen deep inside her pussy, filling her hole with _'him',_ his essence.

Her head fell against his shoulder, her heart pounded against his chest and she panted heavily. Riddick leaned his head on her shoulder for a moment, while he caught his breath. He could feel her body shaking against his – he loved that he had that much power over her, over women in general. They all wanted him, even when they knew he was killer, they wanted him.

Riddick lowered her to the floor, bent and picked up her clothes and shoes, thrusting them into her weak, trembling arms. He needed his rest now his lust had been satiated.

She scrambled for her belt for her key chain, found it and unlocked the bars. She walked naked, from solitary and slammed the doors shut behind her.

The luminescent eyes faded into the background as he retreated into the darkness he preferred.

She pulled on her clothes quickly, wishing she had something to clean herself up with. She walked away from solitary and clocked herself out. She went home to her waiting husband.

She could never understand why Riddick didn't kill her, take the keys and escape. If it were her, she'd do it without blinking.

Riddick stepped on something sharp. He bent and picked it up. His mind went over his most recent encounter – as soon as this fuck became boring, or she started wanting 'love', he had a plan and he would carry it out – even though she was the best fuck he'd ever had, to date.

He sat back on the bunk and stared at the name tag that had fallen from her uniform blouse. In all this time, he'd never once thought to ask her her name and she had never offered it to him. He chuckled, "well, well, well. What do we have here? _'A. Johns.'_ Ain't that a turn-up for the books. Interesting!"


	2. Chapter 2

Warning: contains scenes of a violent nature, and death

**Warning:** contains scenes of a violent nature, and death.

**Part Two:-**

Riddick sniffed the air. Something felt wrong. He laced his boots, slowly, carefully and stood. Stepping back into the dark depths of his cell, he pressed his back against the cold stone wall. Watching and waiting.

A thin beam of light approached his cell and came to an abrupt halt in front of it. The light swung around the small room until it found his face. His goggled bounced back the light and protected his shined eyes.

"Step up to the bars, convict," the disembodied voice came from behind the torch. There was no scent of cinnamon-orange tonight. "Just doing the checks," the voice said, as Riddick stepped up to the door of his cell. The guard couldn't see Riddick's mind spin into overdrive behind the stone-cold façade. "You got me tonight as the whore got herself worked over by her merc husband."

The dumb fuck volunteered the information without being asked.

In those seconds, Riddick had assessed the situation. Someone – other than himself – had touched his 'fuck'.

Riddick had the guard with his back pressed into the bars in the blink of an eye, shiv blade held lengthways against his throat. "You have one chance to tell me where she is. You got that?" he growled.

The guard nodded. He'd fucked up. He knew it. "She…she…hospital…local…" any other words were lost as the blade of the shiv stroked his skin, leaving a crimson line. The guard pissed himself.

The guard's throat opened up with a wet sucking sound and he slumped to the ground. Arterial spurts of blood ejected into the darkness.

The smell filled Riddick's nostrils as he unlocked the door withy the keys he'd lifted from the dead man's belt just before he let go of his lifeless corpse.

Crouching low, he made his way along the corridor of the solitary cell row. Each small cell ran off a main room and, as he peered through the inner main door, he saw five other guards playing poker around a table in the middle of the room.

The sanctum was illuminated by one single bright overhead light. Riddick needed total darkness to get out. He pushed his goggles over his scalp and looked over the stone walls until he found what he was looking for. The power cable was severed with one quick flick of his knife-enhanced hand. The main room dropped into total darkness and Riddick's vision was faultless.

It was easy to ghost the guards in the pitch black – they had no idea where he was or where he was coming at them from. He left a stinking pile of dead flesh behind him and made his way to the main part of the whole slam.

He'd had his escape planned for months, waiting for the opportune moment. The only thing that had kept him there was the free pussy for two weeks, every two weeks, when the shift change went in his favor. What kid of 22 was going to turn down what's offered to him on a plate?

He continued making his way to the ventilation shaft and slipped unseen into it, just as holy hell broke out. Sirens blared, the lock-downs slammed into place, and screams and shouts echoed through the corridors.

Crawling panther-like through the filthy shaft, Riddick headed towards the outer shell of the slam. There he would be more than exposed. He would be out in the open. A running target.

Getting out of the slam was going to be a fucker but not completely impossible. Being able to fly just about any skiff known had always been a plus…and that's where he was ultimately heading – the hangar. If he had to ghost a few more assholes along the way, fine. He was just upping his score level anyway.

He crawled out of the ventilation shaft and into the hangar space. He took a quick reccie around, spotted three guards and he ghosted two of the fuckers before they even saw him. Now he had a gun as well as a shiv. The third guard caught him by surprise and seemed a hell of a lot stronger than he appeared – putting up one hell of a fight. But as usual, Riddick's gung-ho attitude to fighting won out and the guard lay dead in an ever-increasing pool of blood.

Scanning the air-space, he spotted what he needed – a small skiff, enough for him to get to the civilian quarters of this fuck-shit planet he was on.

As he fired up the skiff, an army of guards appeared and began firing at him with an arsenal of assorted guns. Riddick took off like a bat out of hell and hit the midnight sky, hopefully taking a few of them out with the flames spitting out of the exhaust.

He plotted the trajectory into the onboard computer. It estimated one hour and twelve minutes until he got there – the civilian hospital. Plenty of time to think.

Like the hell did he want to save the bitch? She was a good fuck – nothing more. He didn't actually _feel_ anything for her…did he feel responsible for her? Yeah, in the same way it was his fault he was born and tossed into a liquor store trash can with the his cord still wrapped around his friggin' neck.

Nah. It was more likely because someone had touched what he considered his 'property. Touched what he had claimed as his own.

He growled.

He flipped his goggles back up onto his shaven scalp, feeling the roughness as he did. Sitting back in the pilot's seat, he stared out into the night sky as he headed towards his destination. He didn't have much to his name, but what he did have, he intended to keep.

The skiff's computer told him he was approaching the chosen destination. The map he brought up showed him the location of the hospital (nice flat roof for landing) – there was only one civilian hospital on the slam planet so it wasn't hard to locate.

Before landing, he pulled up a map of the interior and typed in 'A. Johns'. The computer spat a location out at him.

He landed the skiff on the most appropriate part of the roof, exited the small craft and made his way down through one of the roof doors and into the dimly lit corridor. The thought of a disguise crossed his mind, but even in a lab coat, his eye shine would give him away – or his goggles would.

He darted down the maze of corridors, slinked down passageways, and dipped in and out of various recesses as he searched out room 3869. Once he found it, he opened the door a chink and quickly assessed the room's interior with military precision.

She was on a bed beneath the window. Single occupancy room. Good odds.

Her arm was in a cast in a sling against her chest, her eye blackened and her lip cut and swollen. He didn't doubt that under the hospital gown, there was more of the same. His anger flared. It was one thing to give a woman bruises from a vigorous fucking, but another thing entirely to give them bruises from a fucking vigorous beating.

Riddick stole into the room and the closer he got, he could see she was sleeping. The REM told him she was dreaming, and the smugness in him wondered if she was dreaming about him. He stood by the bed watching her. She wasn't beautiful – or even pretty for that matter – but she was very interesting.

He reached out and touched her good arm, gently easing up the sleeve to expose her bruised skin. A fire burned in the pit of his belly that soon sent flames coursing through his entire body.

Easing the covers from her still sleeping body, he raised her gown. She stirred as the rush of cool air assaulted her bare skin and her bruised flesh contracted with goose bumps. A hand grabbed his wrist. Riddick looked down at her, her eyes wide open, watching him curiously.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to croak out, her throat sore and stiff where _he'd_ tried to strangle her. She was confused. Riddick had never professed to a liking of her, and yet, was he here to rescue her?

"Heard someone fucked you over. Came to see for myself," his manner as always, was sharp and cold, clinical even.

"He found out…my husband…he waited for me…didn't go to bed like usual. Saw the blood…said I stunk of sex…" she reached for the water beside her bed and struggled.

Riddick watched her struggle.

She took a few sips of the tepid water, her haunted eyes never left his as she studied his silhouetted form against the window.

"Ahhh," was all he said in reply. He was the cause of her beating; he'd already figured that one out. Guilt? Riddick and guilt didn't go together. He laughed out loud and she gave him a quizzical look. "Ok, we have to get you out of here, away from him."

"You came for me? You escaped the slam and came for me?"

Riddick was sickened by the hopeful look in her eyes.

"For now, yes." He didn't add that he would do practically anything to get back at Johns, even stealing his woman wasn't above Riddick's reckoning.

He searched the locker beside the bed for suitable clothing, found some bloodied jeans and sweatshirt – they would have to do. The stale scent of her blood entered his sensitive nose, nostrils flaring, and his body came alive for her. Yeah, he was wired wrong.

Riddick pulled her from the hospital bed and sat her on the edge. Untying the gown, he pushed it away from her broken body. The extent of her injuries was sickening, even to Riddick. Even he never used a woman as a punch bag.

Her eyes flickered as she watched him dress her, emotionless as if she were a shop dummy. He reached under the bed for her sneakers and laced them onto her feet.

And then he finally looked at her. 'Time to go," he told her as he stood. Calmly. Quietly.

She grabbed his wrist yet again. "Riddick, before we go…kiss me. Just once. I want to know what those lips taste like. I want to feel your tongue in my mouth…"

Riddick cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. He liked the bitch, but that was all. Kissing? No way. That showed you cared, and he didn't want to give her the wrong idea. Kissing was for the one you loved forever, and he had yet to find her, if he ever found her.

"No," he told her quietly. "Never gonna happen. Get a move on." He could see the look of disappointment and hurt on her face.

Surely once wouldn't…no, he wasn't going there. He'd get her away safe and then forget all about her.

He had to half carry her up to the roof. Her legs were still weak. She weighed practically nothing in his arms. She felt warm and her scent continued to invade his nose, setting his senses alight. Maybe…

"Put her down, asshole."

The voice came from the bottom of the roof stairs, and straight away Riddick recognized the harsh tones of Johns voice.

"Don't think that's a very good idea." Riddick set her down on the floor behind him and kept her hidden with his body.

"Well, you see, she's my bitch and I get to say what happens with her."

"Only a fucking coward would do this to a woman," Riddick spat.

"I'm no coward." The words Johns growled were punctuated by each step he took towards the open door to the roof. "Now give me what's mine and I promise I'll kill you quickly."

"Riddick…" the soft voice behind him quivered. "I don't want you to die…" And before he could stop her, she had stepped from behind him and taken a step towards Johns.

"Angel…" Johns sneered as he fired one shot.

Angel lurched forwards, landing in Riddick's arms. Riddick grabbed the gun from the small of his back where he'd stashed it and fired back at Johns, hitting his knee.

Johns fell backwards through the open door and Riddick heard the crash as he rolled down the inner stairs.

Dropping to his knees, Angel clutched tightly in his arm, he saw the shock register on her face. "R …Riddick…I…"

She lurched forwards again and the smell of sulpher mixed with the thick coppery tang of her blood was so strong he could taste it in the back of his mouth.

Her eyes searched his; two tears ran from the corners of her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

Riddick felt her lifeless body slump in his arms. He bent his head and kissed her lips softly. If anyone had cared, they would have noticed the faint flicker of emotion cross those stone-cold shined eyes of his.

And so the battle between Riddick and Johns began.

The End.


End file.
